


Fluff and Fold

by Brumeier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Meetings, Laundry, M/M, More Joy Day Fest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-25
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-09 01:47:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13471107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brumeier/pseuds/Brumeier
Summary: It's just another trip to the laundromat for John, until he gets an eyeful of one shapely ass.





	Fluff and Fold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [smiles2go](https://archiveofourown.org/users/smiles2go/gifts).



> This fic came about because I was chatting with smiles2go about my laundromat woes and she said: “I’m surprised no fic has included that popular meeting spot. I can imagine how happy Rodney would be to find himself in such a place.” It wasn’t really a challenge, but I decided to go ahead and write it anyway. Happy More Joy Day, pal!
> 
>  **Warning:** Unfavorable view of _Fox News_ , for which I don't apologize.

John chose to do his laundry first thing in the morning because he had certain expectations of the laundromat at that hour. For one, the good washers should be free. For another, the place should be empty enough that he didn't have to make awkward small talk with a stranger. Going to the laundromat was an unfortunate necessity and John did everything he could to make the process as painless as possible. 

Seeing a very well-shaped ass encased in denim on top of the vending machine wasn't part of John's usual laundry routine. 

John dropped his duffle in front of the thirty-pound washer. "TV broken?" 

"No," a masculine voice replied. 

"So what are you doing?" 

"Rewiring it. Unless you enjoy being subjected to endless hours of _Fox News_ , in which case we have nothing further to discuss." 

John started loading up the washer with his clothes. He'd thought maybe the guy worked for the owner, but not if he was trying to change the channel. There'd been a note on the TV for weeks, notifying people to stop trying to change the channel because _Fox News_ was all that came in. 

"Not a fan?" he asked. 

There was an undignified snort from the top of the vending machine. "I don't care to have Republican propaganda shoved down my throat while I’m waiting for my clothes to wash, particularly since I'm not even American." 

John finished loading up his clothes, popped in a couple detergent pods, and fished the roll of quarters out of his pocket. Then he leaned back against the washing machine and watched that ass wiggle around. He didn’t know who the guy was but he put one heck of a show. 

“Got it!” the guy crowed triumphantly, and then nearly fell off the vending machine. 

“Whoa!” John dodged forward and caught the guy, one hand splayed across that shapely backside. 

With his help the guy was able to get down safely. Turned out he wasn’t bad looking from the front either. He favored John with a crooked grin. 

“Thanks. There’s not a lot of room to work up there.” It also never got cleaned, judging by the amount of dust on the guy’s knees. “See? Isn’t that better?” 

He gestured to the TV, where Anthony Bourdain was eating a bowl of noodles with of chopsticks. John didn’t know if it was the Travel Channel or the Food Network, but it was a definite improvement over the news. 

“Now I can do my laundry.” 

For the first time John noticed the pile of laundry in the corner. There were three baskets and two big bags and an assortment of detergents and fabric softeners. 

“Is that all yours?” 

“I hate doing laundry so I put it off as long as possible,” the guy explained. “If I could afford to just buy new clothes each time I would.” 

John could understand that sentiment. He watched for a little while as the guy started sorting his massive amounts of dirty laundry into a series of washers and then instead of sitting down and playing Sudoku on his phone like he usually did, he found himself offering to help. 

“Really?” The guy looked surprised and pleased. “That would be great, actually.” 

He showed John his system and then thrust a laundry basket at him. 

“I’m Rodney, by the way. If you’re going to be handling my unmentionables you should at least know my name.” 

John chuckled. “Nice to meet you. I’m John.” 

He dove in, tossing whites into one washer, towels and pants into another, shirts and underwear into a third. Rodney had an extraordinarily large collection of patterned boxer shorts. 

“What is this?” John asked, holding up a pair covered in coffee cups and some sort of chemistry equation. 

Rodney gave it a quick glance. “Chemical composition of coffee, obviously.” 

“Obviously,” John echoed. 

There were space-themed boxers, Batman boxers, cat boxers, and even a pair covered in mathematical equations. It made John rethink his monochromatic assortment of boxer briefs. 

Between the two of them they made short work of Rodney's mountain of laundry. John dropped down onto one of the hard plastic chairs lined up by the front window and watched as Rodney mixed and matched all his detergents in whatever formula he'd created. Way too much work when a simple pod could be tossed in. 

A woman came in carrying a large basket and herding two small children in front of her, and the comfortable calm of the laundromat was instantly shattered. 

"Get out of that!" the woman shouted at the little boy, who'd climbed into one of the carts and was being pushed around by his sister. Neither child listened to her. "I said stop that!" 

She pulled the little boy out of the cart and he promptly went around opening the doors of the empty washers and slamming them shut again. The little girl insisted on helping put the money in and dropped a whole handful of quarters, which she and her brother started to chase around, screaming unnecessarily. 

"Inside voices!" the woman shouted. 

John and Rodney exchanged grimaces. 

She finally got her laundry going, and then had to chase the kids around the folding tables for at least five whole minutes before she caught them and grabbed hold of their hands. 

"You'd better behave or you won't get pancakes!" 

"I don't want pancakes!" the little boy screamed. "No pancakes! No pancakes!" 

"Stop that! Maryann, pick up your doll. Let's go!" 

John had never been more thankful when the woman frog-marched her kids back outside, probably to the diner down the street. He didn't like leaving his clothes – he'd had some things stolen once – but he couldn't sit so long with that circus running around the laundromat. 

"This is why I'm never having kids," Rodney said. He'd put all of his laundry supplies in a big canvas bag, which he tucked under the seat next to John's. "They're too volatile." 

"Not everyone is cut out for parenting," John replied. He wasn't so sure on the kid issue himself, though it was pretty much a moot point since he hadn't been dating for...longer than he wanted to count. 

"I don't have the patience for it. My sister has a couple of kids, but she has the patience of a saint. Hers are better behaved, too." Rodney contemplated the contents of the vending machine. "These prices are outrageous." 

"There's a bodega down the block." 

Rodney flapped a hand at him. "Like I'm going to leave my stuff here. You can't trust anyone these days. Oh. Uh, not you, though. I didn't mean you." 

John huffed out a laugh. Rodney was a pretty funny guy, even though he wasn't trying to be. "No offense taken." 

"Good. You know I don't trust just anyone to handle my underwear." 

"I'll keep that in mind." He was pretty sure Rodney hadn't meant that the way it sounded, like some kind of come-on. 

Rodney fed some quarters into the machine and pulled out a bottle of water and two Snickers bars. He tossed one to John. 

"For helping with the clothes. And making sure I didn't break my neck." 

John saluted him with the chocolate bar. 

They sat side by side in companionable silence for a while. Rodney had pulled out his phone, so John did the same. Pretty soon he was engrossed in his puzzles, though he had yet to come across one that really challenged him. 

"You're good with numbers," Rodney said. John hadn't realized he was leaning over, watching. 

"Comes with the territory. I'm a mathematician." 

"Huh." Rodney gave him a pretty thorough once-over and John shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "You don't look like a mathematician." 

"And that would be?" 

"You know. Bowtie. Tweed jacket with the patches on the elbows. Maybe a pair of horn-rimmed glasses." 

John fought back a grin. "There's an image that's stuck in the fifties." 

"Do you teach? I do. Engineering, at the Tech Institute." 

So Rodney wasn't just another pretty face either. John wasn't sure he'd ever been so attracted to a stranger, but Rodney was really checking a lot of boxes for him: muscular arms, blue eyes, an ass that wouldn't quit, plenty of personality, and an actual functioning brain. 

"I'm a consultant, actually. I do a lot of freelance work." 

"That sounds like code for unemployed." 

John smirked. "That's code for classified, which is what a lot of my work is." 

Rodney looked over his shoulder before leaning closer to John. "Government?" he whispered. 

"Sometimes," John whispered back. "Why are we whispering?" 

"I've had a few run-ins with your government officials. I think I'm on a watch list." 

"Anything I should be worried about?" 

Rodney shook his head. "No. Well, I built a nuclear bomb in grade six. It wasn't fully functional, obviously, since I had no access to plutonium in those days." 

John assumed he had access to it now, which was just a little disturbing. 

"I'm working on a project now, in my spare time, and I'm sure some of what I'm doing has been misinterpreted by people too stupid to understand. It's very cutting edge, very scientific." 

"Oh. That's all?" 

Rodney gestured at John with his Snickers bar. "Someday the whole world is going to know my name, because the work I'm doing is going to make all our lives better." 

"And I can say I knew you when," John teased. 

"You can write a tell-all about the kind of laundry soap I use." 

They grinned at each other, and then Rodney turned his attention to the candy bar and John got back to his Sudoku game. When John's washer buzzed he pulled his clothes out, dumped them in a cart, and wheeled them over to the dryers. 

An old man came in, walking with a cane and pulling a cart behind him. He used the change machine first, then turn and paused, looking at the TV. 

"Someone changed the channel?" 

"Sure did," John replied. 

"Bless their heart. Those idiots on the news drive me crazy." 

John laughed and tossed some dryer sheets in with his clothes before feeding yet more quarters into the coin slots. He was pretty sure the owner didn't have the dryers running at full heat because it took a long time, and a lot of quarters, to get everything dry. 

When Rodney's clothes were ready for the dryers, John helped out again. Even though Rodney had used liquid fabric softener, he also used dryer sheets and sprinkled in capfuls of those scent booster things. The guy was serious about his laundry. 

"You have chess on your phone?" Rodney asked. 

When John said he didn't, Rodney snatched his phone and downloaded the app, getting it set up for him. They passed the time waiting on the dryers playing rapid-fire games with each other, Rodney crowing each time he outmaneuvered John. John still won more than half the games, and he had so much fun he didn't realize his clothes were done until Rodney's were too. 

John carefully folded everything, except the socks and underwear which got rolled. Rodney, to John's amusement, folded nothing, he just dumped everything back in the baskets and bags. 

"You must go through life pretty rumpled," John said. 

Rodney blushed, which wasn't the reaction John had been expecting. "I, uh. I iron everything. At home. It keeps me from snacking while I watch TV." 

That shouldn't have been as endearing as it was. John packed up his clothes, and then boosted himself up to sit on the folding table. 

"You watch anything good?" 

"Been saving up season two of _Riverdale_ ," Rodney said with a shrug, though he still looked a little embarrassed. 

"I wish they hadn’t changed Jughead’s character so much from the comics, but he’s still the most interesting guy on that show.” 

Rodney visibly brightened. "You watch it too?" 

"It's pretty addicting. Plus, Luke Perry." John waggled his eyebrows. 

Rodney finished stuffing his clothes in the bag and baskets, and sidled a little closer to where John was sitting. 

"I don't suppose you'd care to discuss season one over lunch." 

John thought about everything he had planned to do for the day, and mentally scrapped it all. 

"I might be swayed." 

Rodney's tongue darted out and his licked his lips. He moved closer still, till he was standing between John's legs. John imagined them in the same position, only naked, and his skin flushed hot. 

"I make really good grilled cheese." 

Oh, man. Rodney was going to take him to his place. John thought maybe he'd get to see the guy modeling a pair of those boxers before the day was out, if he played his cards right. 

"I love grilled cheese," he lied. 

Rodney smiled, really smiled, and John knew he was in trouble. 

"Let me just call my Lyft." 

"You do that," John said. And before he could stop himself he leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Rodney's delightfully crooked mouth. 

"I'll put a rush on it," Rodney said breathlessly. 

There'd be no time for ironing.

**Author's Note:**

>  **AN:** Aside from the meet-cute and generally flirtiness, this is an accurate representation of my weekly trips to the laundromat. The owners won't let anyone change the channel, so I'm subjected to that friggin' news channel the entire time I'm there. But very quietly, because some of the people who come in are big Trump supporters and I'm not looking to get into some kind of fist-fight in the laundromat. Thank goodness for Rodney, who can fix everything for me. ::grins::


End file.
